by Masche

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Michele M. Se Robert Johnson aveva firmato un patto con il diavolo, forse i Masche l'hanno firmato con qualche strega delle foreste. Qualunque sia il loro segreto, partendo da improvvisazioni questo collettivo a composizione variabile (qui temporaneamente cristallizzato in una voce, un sax, un basso, una batteria e dei marchingegni elettronici) realizza un'insieme di composizioni notturne, poetiche e blues nello spirito. La sostanza è un ibrido mutante di jazz libero, elettronica idm, rock, soul e spoken words. Uno dei miei album preferiti del 2018 per un esordio col botto Favorite track: desire.
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    2018 @ ADN Records - Wallace Records

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2018 @ ADN Records - Wallace Records


released June 28, 2018

Music by Masche
Lyrics by Cristina Trotto Gatta

Valerio Zucca Paul: Electronics
Cristina Trotto Gatta: Voice
Diego Rosso: Drums
Andrea Chiuni: Bass and Voice
Alessandro Cartolari: Baritone and Alto Sax

Recorded live on 16 December 2017 in Perosa Canavese (TO) by Alessandro Cartolari and Valerio Zucca Paul.

Mixed by Valerio Zucca Paul

distorsioni.net (20/10/2018) by Romina Baldoni
"Math rock e free jazz si abbracciano e si respingono in una caracollante danza dell’inquietudine, Still."

Il Manifesto (10/10/2018) by Nazim Comunale
"Disco di distanze siderali e silenzi densi, monumento sibillino alla libertà di chi non smette di cercare l’inaudito."

heavyblogisheavy.com (01/08/2018) by Scott Murphy
"Avant-garde jazz fans should immediately press play below; trust me, you’ll thank me later."


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Masche Ivrea, Italy

Masche was born in 2013 in Canavese as an open collective (Anatrofobia, 3eem, Ex-p), aiming at finding sonic
combinations between electronics rock and improvisation. Masche now is composed by
four musicians.

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Track Name: still
They stretch strings from the corners of the houses,
white or black or gray or black-and-white
they mark a relationship of blood,
of trade,
or love.
When the strings become so many
they can no longer get thru them,
they leave:
the houses are dismantled
the strings and their supports remain.
From a mountainside,
the refugees look at the labyrinth of strings and poles that rise in the plain.
That is the city – still
and they are nothing.
They rebuild a new city elsewhere.
They weave a new pattern of strings,
They’d like them to be more complex,
and at the same time more regular...
After a while they abandon the new city again
and take their houses
still further away.
traveling in that region,
you come upon the ruins of all the abandoned cities,
there’s no walls,
they do not last,
nor the bones of the dead,
the wind rolled them away:
spider webs
of intricate relationships - Looking for a form.
Track Name: desire
concentric lists
kites flying over
praise the flesh
tell what you have seen
in my garden
- Invited
- Stranger
true essence
awakens desires
only to force you
to stifle them
walked for days among stones
cause in the outskirts
there was someone loud
one morning
my desires
waken all at once
surrounded me
a whole
Such is the power
gives form to desire
takes from desire its form
Track Name: hung
There’s a cliff
between two steep mountains:
the city is over the void,
bound to the two crests
with ropes and chains and catwalks
You walk on the little wooden ties, careful
or you cling to the hempen strands.
Below there’s nothing
for hundreds and hundreds of feet
The foundation of the city is a net,
which serves as passage and support.
All the rest,
instead of rising up, is hung below:
rope ladders,
houses made like sacks,
clothes hangers,
skins of water,
gas jets,
baskets on strings,
rings for children's games,
pots with long leaning plants.
Suspended over the abyss,
their life
Is less uncertain than in other places.
They know the net might not hold too much.
Track Name: puma (on a leash)
PUMA (on a leash)
possible futures
trapped in crystal balls
collect them all
chose the one
while everything keeps changing
have fun sliding down the twisting spiral
there must be a place for crystal balls
for what is necessary when it's not yet so
and for what is possible then - when the time comes - is possible no longer
there must a place
for a black blind man shouting in the crowd
for a lunatic hung on a skyscraper's cornice
for a girl walking with a puma on a leash
Because many of the blind men who tap their canes on cobblestones are black;
in every skyscraper there is someone going mad;
all lunatics spend hours on cornices;
and there is no puma that some girl does not raise,
as a whim.

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